


The Third

by MycroftIsAGorgeousGingerTart



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Choking, Cock Rings, Come Eating, Consensual Non-Consent, Cunnilingus, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, M/M, Nipple Clamps, Rape Fantasy, Restraints, Sex Toys, Slapping, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 13:56:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7535428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MycroftIsAGorgeousGingerTart/pseuds/MycroftIsAGorgeousGingerTart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft and Anthea have been in a sexual relationship for many years though are not actually together in the boyfriend/girlfriend sense, Greg becomes the casual third in their sexual relationship.  After a few ups and downs it grows into more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Third

**Author's Note:**

> Have ticked the warning to be on the safe side, if rape fantasy isn't your bag or a trigger please don't read. I am normally just a Mystrade shipper but I really like the thought of Mycroft and Anthea having a sexual relationship too so decided to do a threesome that starts as something just casual between them all and grows into something more.

It was just after midnight by the time he got home to his flat. He was looking forward to donning his TARDIS onesie, curling up on the sofa with a hot chocolate and watching a few episodes of first season of Torchwood before going to bed. He had gone out with John to have a few drinks and to take in a few clubs, John had managed to pick up a with a very attractive blonde only to have Sherlock suddenly turn up, start a row and drive the woman away…..he wondered if eventually he would need to clang their heads together to see what was in front of them. From the moment those two had met it was obvious they were perfect for each other. He wasn’t fussed about getting lucky himself, the talent really not catching his eye so he’d left them to it. He was looking forward to a day off tomorrow to sleep in, generally lazing about with a beer or two, watching a match on telly and indulging in some takeout. 

Thankfully the day had been quiet much to Sherlock’s disgust, only two homicides….one pretty much straightforward since the perpetrator remained at the scene after having called 999 himself, the other not so straightforward and dependent upon DNA results……both, he said with a sniff of disdain, not worth his time as they rated less than a 2. 

He hung up his coat then paused, the scent lingering in the air making him narrow his eyes then trod lightly towards the lounge, and blinked when the corner lamp suddenly threw a dim light over the room illuminating a man seemingly quite at home in Greg’s favourite armchair. The old thing had seen better days but was too damn comfortable to toss out. A light forest green suit jacket and black umbrella lay tidily on the top of the coffee table and obviously going by the snifter in his hand he’d helped himself to Greg’s good Cognac. 

He’d lost count of how many times Sherlock had broken into his home at all hours of the day and night which included when he’d still been with his ex-wife, Stella. Now it seemed the older brother had no compunction about doing the same. It had been around five months since he’d set eyes on Mycroft Holmes and that had been when the man turned up at Baker Street during a dressing down he was giving both Sherlock and John about withholding evidence. Mycroft had greeted him politely and Greg had just as politely returned the greeting. Like a bloodhound on the scent of something, Sherlock’s pale coloured eyes had flicked between them, mind making rapid deductions, deductions that had him recoiling and looking like someone had put a pile of cat shit under his nose. God only knows how the consulting detective hadn’t ever noticed. He’d deduced whenever Greg had gotten laid any other time since his split with Stella but had astoundingly been completely oblivious to the fact he had been engaged in a casual sexual relationship with his brother for quite some time, hardly surprising really given Mycroft had been in a sexual relationship in what appeared to be exclusively with Anthea for a number of years.

Thankfully Sherlock had kept said deductions to himself rather than voicing them in front of John and Mrs Hudson, instead snatching up his violin and dragging the bow across the strings to make it screech in agonised sounds. Given John had mentioned nothing he assumed Sherlock had not brought it up with his blogger, though that was hardly surprising since it was quite obvious Mycroft and sex in the same sentence was a disturbing notion to the younger man who in the 8 years Greg had known him hadn’t sought out relationships of any kind other than the regard he held for John which didn’t take a genius to deduce was of mutual pining on both sides.

“No point in informing you breaking and entering is against the law I suppose?” asked Greg wryly dumping his keys, wallet and phone onto the coffee table.

“I’m quite sure you know the answer to that.” responded Mycroft evenly. 

Greg was quite well aware of what Mycroft was; he’d once been called to Vauxhall to do legwork for him when Sherlock and John had stirred up shit at Baskerville. The years of his association with Sherlock had taught him Mycroft had carte blanche to do things mere mortals couldn’t do. He didn’t discount the things the consulting detective had thrown at Mycroft when in a snit - ‘piss off and organise an assassination if you are finding yourself bored’ or ‘go start a war instead of bothering me’…..and completely believed Sherlock when he’d told him after meeting Mycroft for the first time not to be fooled by the suit and prissy airs because his brother WAS the British Government AND the most dangerous man he would ever meet.

“Get out Mycroft.” said Greg flatly, taking off his suit jacket and tossing it not so tidily over the back of the sofa “I haven’t heard sight nor sound of either of you or Anthea in nearly 6 months bar once at Baker St and quite frankly I don’t care to, how’s a new fuckbuddies working out?” 

Colour bloomed on Mycroft’s cheeks at the latter statement. Just over five months ago by complete coincidence they had both attended the same engagement party. Mycroft and Anthea were friends of the groom and Greg a friend of the bride….Anthea had quietly suggested they take the party back to Mycroft’s office at Diogenes which was close by, while caught up in a drunken frantic coupling with Anthea with Mycroft watching and wanking to Greg had inadvertently triggered a silent personal alarm system under the desk by accident. The security guard had burst in with guns drawn in each hand, his choked ‘oh my gods!’ dying into stunned silence as his wide eyes took in the scene of debauchery in the office. Coldly Mycroft had thrown Greg’s clothes at him, told him their association was over then ordered he be escorted out of the building before disappearing into the small bathroom off the office with a slammed door. Angrily, Greg had rapidly pulled his clothes on ignoring Anthea's pleas to just give it a few days and Mycroft would cool down but he'd heard nothing and surmised it was all over, promptly getting on with his life a week later with a pretty lawyer lass in her bed after he sweet talked her while at the courthouse.

In all the time they had their arrangement it had never ever been at his flat. There had been meetings at Diogenes, 221B Baker Street, the back seat of Mycroft’s Mercedes Benz and Mycroft’s home, many times in different places in the three years since his divorce had been finalised but never in Greg’s flat. He wasn’t absolutely sure how or why it had happened after so many years of businesslike acquaintance….perhaps the crap date the night before when he’d been ditched by the woman he’d asked to the movies when she’d politely excused herself to go to the toilet and didn’t come back and also seeing Stella’s new man likely had something to do with it. His ex-wife obviously had found someone that could give her what she needed…..a man half her age, built like Hercules and had no trouble keeping up with or pandering to her varied appetites and demands. 

Mycroft was not like his younger brother who put his mind before the ‘transport’, no, Mycroft was more than happy to utilise his ‘transport’. They had met as normal to discuss Sherlock, John and the cases Sherlock worked on and solved for him, Anthea had plied him with more than a few disgustingly expensive and delicious Cognacs and then suggested he occupy one of the sleeping rooms at Diogenes. He’d only been mildly drunk and even though he didn’t have the Holmes’ brothers knack for deduction he was well aware they were both seducing him. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been in a three-way, that had been one of Stella’s fetishes but with another woman……and both Mycroft and Anthea were very attractive.

Their combined persuasive powers talked Greg into sleeping with Mycroft while Anthea watched rather than having a threesome; he went along with it and acquiesced to Mycroft’s polite request to top him despite his preference to topping. Mycroft had been softly spoken, gentle in his ministrations since it had been more years than he cared to remember since Greg had taken a cock up the arse, a little shy and very much the English gentleman in the bedroom just like he was outside it…….once past the initial penetration which had felt akin to losing his virginity again the sex had been spectacular, it was the first time he had truly enjoyed being on the receiving end and Greg had quite happily bent over and offered up his arse for several repeat performances. Anthea made no move to join them, merely watching on and getting off with one of her toys though other times she happily participated with one of the while either he or Mycroft watched.

The first time he’d subtlety indicated he was going to be topping he’d expected Mycroft to balk since the man appeared to prefer to take the lead and had been pleasantly surprised at his willing compliance. Greg had treated him in the same gentle, considerate way as he’d been treated but it became evident that Mycroft displayed only minimal enjoyment no matter what trick in the book he tried making him wonder if perhaps the man had simply humoured him by allowing him to top or he was absolutely crap at topping a man now, needless to say it didn’t make for satisfying sex on both sides until Anthea had hissed at him in pissed off frustration that Mycroft preferred firm handling on the receiving end and found vanilla tediously boring with men. 

After aiming a muttered “Why the fuck didn’t you just say so” at Mycroft he’d rolled the man over on to his back, parted his legs moving in to kneel between them and unceremoniously entered him with a rough thrust that made the man stutter out an involuntary startled noise……the immediate change in the man had been pronounced, jerking his hips up while Greg held his ankles to keep his legs splayed wide apart fully exposing Mycroft’s stretched hole grasping around Greg’s cock as he fucked him roughly. Once he understood, he then explored how he could fulfill the man’s desires. Despite the quiet and considerate assertiveness when he made love to Anthea and despite enjoying the gentle and very satisfying fucking he gave Greg, deep down Mycroft wanted and needed to be taken and subjugated, to have a strong man force him to relinquish all control and give complete submission but also balked at the very idea.

It had come as a complete surprise to find out Mycroft had a taste for light to mostly moderate BDSM, had always had bisexual leanings though could only submit to a man sexually and found the thought of having a woman don a strap-on to fuck him distasteful. Anthea told him they’d sought him out once he was free of Stella since Greg had been in a moderate BDSM kind of relationship with his ex-wife, though Stella had enjoyed more of the extremes like whips and fisting which Mycroft had stipulated were out. While Greg loved to be the dominant one in the bedroom he had found it difficult when Stella had wanted to make it their entire lifestyle, to be Master of her 24/7. He hoped she had found that in her new and much younger man because it had been something he had not been able to give her, the same way he gave Mycroft what Anthea was unable to give since she was neither male, had a cock nor had a taste for BDSM.

Though Mycroft spoke little of his past; Greg had gleaned there had been a long term relationship with a male in his younger years before Anthea who had either taken things too far in the bedroom or done something publicly which led to Mycroft had severing the relationship. He had seen plenty of people like Mycroft and Anthea in the fetish clubs he and Stella had frequented, people whose daily lives were spent in professions dependent on their rigid self-control and skilled management in handling of a variety of demanding and highly stressful situations. It was only natural some of them would seek to relinquish that control to another in a power exchange though in this case Mycroft and Anthea sought out somebody they could trust implicitly that the intimate details of their private lives would go no further than the three of them. No doubt the security personnel who had burst into the office at Diogenes had been threatened with something dire should it ever be revealed what they saw.

Mycroft had never voiced his wish to be dominated in the bedroom, and since it was Anthea who had given Greg his safe words after listing fisting, pissing, shitting, blood play, whips, breaking of skin and anything more than slapping with hands as hard limits before stipulating any marks were not to show above the collar or from under the shirt cuffs he believed Mycroft held some shame and embarrassment at not only liking to bottom but what he liked in the bedroom. Obviously complete discretion was a must, Greg wasn't about to go shouting from the rooftops his personal business, he too had to present himself with a good character being a Detective Inspector not that there was anything immoral or illegal about what they did since they were all consenting adults. Anthea was a pleasure to fuck, she was a woman who loved her sexuality and wasn't ashamed to enjoy pleasure. There had been times Mycroft had been deliberately insolent and downright disrespectful, a number of times he had purposely made things difficult so that Greg was forced to discipline him. He’d never completely submitted to Greg, the level of trust needed had kept Mycroft back despite always immediately ceasing whatever activity they were engaged in the moment Mycroft uttered his safe word.

“Anthea was very unhappy with the way things transpired.” said Mycroft, primly smoothing out a non-existent crease in his expensive trousers “I admit I may have been too hasty in ending our association and thought we might resume relations as before.”

“Resume relations?” snorted Greg “There are plenty of blokes who would be more than happy to indulge you both or did the latest fuck get thrown out like so much garbage too.”

Greg stomped out of the lounge to the kitchen and poured himself a tot of Scotch ignoring Mycroft who followed him.

“There have been others we have tried and Anthea threw out the latest third after he…..” 

Mycroft broke off and snapped his mouth closed before Greg could snarl he wasn't interested in listening to their sexual exploits with other people.

“Because he….what?” asked Greg scowling.

“Nothing.” murmured the man turning around and going back to the lounge. 

Greg followed hot on his heels and scowled as Mycroft picked up his umbrella.

“Put it down.” 

Greg snapped out the words, hard and full of authority. Mycroft froze, then quickly placed the umbrella back on to the coffee table.

“Because he….what?” ground out Greg closing the gap between them and entering Mycroft’s personal space.

Mycroft's blue-grey eyes searched his, reading Greg then licked his lips knowing that despite being royally pissed off with both of them Greg would fuck over anybody who hurt him or Anthea.

“It became evident over the course of a month or so he was a poor choice though for different reasons than the others.” said Mycroft evasively “He was sent on his way with a broken nose and requiring a good dentist…..”

Greg compressed his lips together. Poor choices, yeah, he’d seen plenty of poor choices in the clubs….men who strutted about to play dominants who had no fucking idea of the real dynamics of a BDSM exchange because they’d read crap like Fifty Shades of Grey……and those who just simply got off on power, or inflicting pain and or having someone submissive they could use without a thought to a subs needs and only their own. Some unable to recognise it was actually the sub who held all the power.

“What makes you think I want to be a convenient fuck until you shit all over me again……”

“Three years hardly made you a convenient fuck, Gregory.” snapped Mycroft irritably “And I’ve already expressed my regret in making the hasty decision to end things between us.”

“Where is Anthea?” asked Greg thinking perhaps Mycroft had left her in the car outside.

“She is away on family business, she suggested I make use of the time she was away to mend things if possible.” said Mycroft, meaning evident without actually saying it. “Is it possible, Gregory?”

That was Anthea’s way of intimating she was happy to share Mycroft while she was away, something that had not happened ever and that Mycroft was in unspoken agreement with her, wanting to be with Greg without her presence.

God help him, he was mad to go back to doing this…….it was easier to just pick up in the pubs and clubs for a one night stand like he’d done in the last 5ish months since he had been tossed out of Diogenes and the relationship with Anthea and Mycroft.

“Say yes.” said Mycroft, a hint of worry in his voice when he didn’t respond for several moments.

Greg raised his eyebrows at the man after making his choice.

“Yes, what?” asked Greg in annoyance.

“Yes, Gregory.” returned Mycroft, a touch of sarcasm in his voice and emphasizing his name.

Oh how he had missed this, the impertinence was delightful. He would have been disappointed if the man had of not been his usual insolent self. He slapped Mycroft’s left cheek smartly, hard enough to sting but not hard enough to do any kind of damage to the inside of his mouth or to his lips.

Mycroft breathed in then exhaled shakily. He quickly lowered his eyes, but not before Greg saw the blown pupils that gave away his arousal. Want coursed through Greg at the thought of having the man under him again.

“I’m going to use you so hard, give you a fucking that'll have you squirming for at least a week when you have to sit on that pretty arse, reminding you of my cock balls deep inside you.” murmured Greg filthily.


End file.
